


Dusk (Blackbird Part II)

by downpourcity



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-01-21 04:26:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12449649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downpourcity/pseuds/downpourcity
Summary: A reoccurring dream, a twist of fate and a nightmare existing in reality. Lena Oxton is tormented by the same dream every night for a month, leaving a curious Akande, a stronger relationship with others and a journey she was never ready for. Will she find the truth or be struck down and bound by the chains of her curiosity?(The Second Part to the Blackbird Trilogy)





	1. Fading Daylight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [An old friend and the new friends I met on the way](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=An+old+friend+and+the+new+friends+I+met+on+the+way).



Lena awoke with a start, suddenly unfamiliar with her surroundings as she took in the scent of the woman close to her. She could hear the distant sound of wind hitting the side of the building. Her body slowly coped with this sudden change in scenery. She wondered if she was dreaming or being pinballed throughout time again. She closed her eyes, remembering the far-off sound of Jack Morrison falling onto the concrete below. She shuddered, feeling the other who held onto her for dear life, stir.

It was only a dream, a memory.

She focused on this dream again, a familiar nightmare folding into the fabric of her once calmed thoughts.

\--

The sea crashed against the cliffs far below, death and violence were hot in the air. Lena couldn’t escape this dream. She was paralyzed within it. She could feel sweat pooling on her forehead as she watched the entire fight again, the death of Ana and then the thud of Jack’s body hitting. Her stomach tossed and churned like a boat on rough waters. However, instead of vanishing back to her current time as she did once before, she was forced to walk towards the edge of the building, viewing his body fully. Time seemed to pass quickly around her, the only thing remaining was his body and the other who was sat on the opposite side of the roof.  
  
She felt close to losing her stomach to the scenery, but she couldn’t. No. She saw something rather peculiar, horrific even, mind boggling. A tall, slender, shadowed figure grabbed his body, dragging it to the landing pad. She could hear Jack groaning, perfectly alive and well and as soon as the person dragging his body had their face covered in moonlight? _She bolted awake._

Her breaths ran ragged, her brow covered in sweat, her night shirt soaked in dread. There they were again, the all too familiar tears down her face. The woman who had held her for what seemed like only hours before, was gone from her spot next to her, leaving her alone to her room and to herself.

The faint orange glow from her chest was the only source of light other than the faint white light attempting to weave through the thick curtains. She wobbly got out of bed, feeling her way blindly to the light switch. She didn’t even utilize the light from her accelerator. After an astonishing few weeks of the same nightmare, she felt it was time to pay a visit to the doctor.

Carefully she dressed herself, her clothing hanging off her slender frame as she carefully placed every piece of her usual attire on. The one thing she put on close to her was a black scarf, her fingers staying in the fabric a while longer until she could calm herself down enough to present herself to society. A sigh fell from her lips, drifting into the air forcefully. _Come on Lena, calm. You can do calm._ She gripped the tail of her scarf, opening the door and walking out into the corridor. Not a soul lingered, it must’ve been extremely early.

With extreme care, she stepped towards the doctor’s quarters. When she found no one, she went straight for the medical bay and her office.

“Ah, Good Morning, Lena. I thought I was the only one awake at this hour.” She chuckled, moving her reading glasses down her nose and taking a sip of what appeared to be tea. “What seems to be the problem?”  
  
“Oh doc, it’s not always problems with me. But…” She cut herself off, shutting the woman’s office door to give them absolute privacy from the soldiers and once Overwatch heroes in the bay. “I’ve had this reoccurring nightmare ever since I did that time-stunt.”

“Is this the same sort of dream you had when you were stuck with chronal disassociation?” She piqued a brow, setting her tea down onto a small frilly coaster.

“This one is different. Really different. I’m honestly thinkin’ it’s something that actually happened when I left.” She rubbed the back of her hair, biting her lip in dismay. “You’re gonna think I sound silly but, I saw something weird.” She thought back to how it took Talon a while to recover the bodies after the attack. She wondered if they messed something up on the report on purpose. “Morrison, I saw Morrison. He was being dragged away by someone towards the landing pad.”

“Hmm, that’s rather odd.” She took another sip off her tea, it was much longer this time. Carefully she set it back down, taking a long while to choose her words. She scoot her rolling chair forward, hanging over her desk a bit and in a low whisper she said, “They sent me the non-confidential report. I’m their doctor now, their policy states that I get full reign on this information for body records. Morrison was missing when they were detaining and cleaning up the scene. The Forensics team spoke of a blood trail leading from the exact location you’re referring to and then presumably he was airlifted out of there in one of our own planes.”

“He wh—“Lena started, Angela’s finger softly tapping her lips.

“We need to keep this between us.” She sat back in her chair, casually grabbing her tea and holding it in her hands for the residual warmth.

Lena was taken aback as she heard heavy footsteps coming to the office door. The door was opened abruptly. A tall muscular man wearing loose clothing stood in the doorway.  

“Ms. Oxton, Doctor Ziegler, I must inform the both of you that Jack Morrison is confirmed alive and highly dangerous.” His voice was low and stiff, but she knew he meant well all the same.

“Thank you for letting us know, Mr. Ogundimu. Are you telling me because—“She was cut off, the man intervening.

“Because you were both former Overwatch members and you both worked under his command at one point. It is only fair that you were told. I also apologize for cutting you off, Doctor. Now, that I’m here, I’d also like to give you both a very hard task to fulfill. I want the two of you to stay far away from this and let my men handle it.” He flinched softly when Lena’s hand hit against the wooden desk’s surface.

“I KNEW IT!” She exclaimed, her accelerator brightening in response to this feeling of excitement, fear and disbelief.

“What do you mean you knew it?” He asked, calmly nodding as Angela waved him to sit.

“I was having dreams about it, _sir_.” She said in a formal manner, realizing her previous outburst was rather disrespectful. She felt a sweat drop fall down her forehead and onto her cheek in slight worry.

“Ms. Oxton, please call me Akande.” He sat back in his seat, letting out small sigh. “What do you mean dreams, and how long has this gone on?”

“Lena, please, Si—Akande.” She smiled a little bit at the sound of his name, she quite liked it. “For about a month now, ever since I jumped back and then forward and time, I’ve had a reoccurring dream about this. Every single time I have this dream I’m watching Jack’s body being dragged away towards the landing pad, a plane or helicopter or something resting on it in wait for the two people to board. Just as I’m about to see the man responsible for dragging the still alive Morrison away, I wake up.”  
  
“Hmm, does this have something to do with your… _particular_... set of skills?” He sat up, a brow coming upward in delicate question. “Have you ever managed to see any of his face?”  
  
“Believe me, I’ve tried. I keep seeing a bit of it and then I’m driven to waking up. No matter what I try, I always wake up moments before I see it fully. His face is familiar to me though. You know when you have a dream and you’re stuck feeling like you know the people around you but you can never quite pinpoint where you met them or knew them from? Yeah that’s him.” She teetered back and forth in her chair, leg moving up and down at hastening speeds. She was antsy and ready to go, her brain just running over the order of “Sitting this one out.”  
  
“Do you remember anything from him? Anything that stuck out from what you could see?” He cracked his left hand against his leg, his knuckles letting out a moderately loud sound in retribution.

“He has dark hair, which means it’s probably lighter in the daytime. He’s very fair skinned and tall, a little taller than Morrison! Umm, the only thing I can remember from his face is his angular jawline and how sad and disgusted he looked. The rest of his face was a blur.” Her posture became disjointed as she felt disappointed in herself for not remembering anything more.

“Intriguing. Although that’s broad, we’ll keep it in mind. Is there anything else you can tell me?” His face was locked in permanent puzzlement.

“Nothing I can think of.” She sighed, thinking up a storm to try and find a way into this investigation herself. “Can I—“

“No.” He said firmly, almost knowing what the curious girl would ask.

“Aww, how’d you know?” She furrowed her brow, pouting in her seat quietly as she kept her leg moving up and down in nervous and energy ensued wiggling.

He rose carefully from his chair, towering over the two of them and then bowing his head. “I’ll check back with either of you if you know of anything I can use to help find this man and Morrison and take him out of this picture.”  
  
He left the room as abruptly as he entered it, leaving Angela and Lena deprived of answers and wanting to help somehow. Why had he enforced such a law on them?

“Oh well, I guess that’s just how it works.” Angela sighed, sitting back in her chair as if it didn’t bother her.  
  
“How can you just sit there?” Lena’s voice rose in height.

“I don’t like it either, Lena.” She admitted bitterly, closing her eyes. “I hate that this conversation went from intrigue to sudden denial of even thinking about it again.”

“Can’t we do something?” The speedy-quick female asked, puppy dog eyes developing.

“Nope.” She sighed out, shaking her head. “You heard Mr. Ogundimu. No questions, no arguing, no buts.”

“I’m gonna go find Amélie and we’re going to find Morrison and prove to Akande that we’re worth it!” She stood up and groaned, blinking from the room in a huff.

“That’s not what he meant Lena!” She yelled after, to no avail. At least she tried.

Instead of going to Amélie, she had hatched a better plan. Well, at least she thought it was better.

She carefully wandered into the barracks, watching as the soldiers rose for the day. They walked by her, ignoring her. Only one of them stuck out from the rest, and said person immediately gravitated towards Lena.

“Oxton, what are y’all doing in here?” He asked, his drawl obvious on his tired breath. “Did he tell you the same thing?”

She nodded absently, looking around for something other than the “Jessie McCree” standing in front of her.

“Damn, I thought at least one of us would be allowed on this mission.” He put his hat on, shaking his head.

She nodded again, not answering him or saying any sort of rant in agreeance with his words.

“Wow, you’re like talking to a brick wall this mornin’. I’m going to go take a smoke. If you need me, you know where I am.” He walked away, muttering about how she was absolutely ignoring him.

After a long while she got bored of standing around, the person of interest that she thought she could find wasn’t there. The plan that she had thought up from a bunch of movies she had watched wasn’t going to work on anyone here. So, in turn, she walked back into the mess hall and then into the hallways. Another walk would do her well, possibly take off the edge of irritation she felt bunching up in the walls of her stomach.

For what felt like years she came across the residential area, the place where the put all the high-ranking Talon members and associates as well as the ex-Overwatch heroes who had proven loyalty to their cause. She came across Amélie, standing against one of the rugged white walls, leaning back. She wore black and dark red attire, a bit of armor and her visor. The ‘W’ logo was red on her shoulder armor instead of the usual purple-blue. Lena gawked at her like she was some new attraction in a circus show.

“Lena?” Amélie asked in a dull and even-toned voice, her facial expression reflecting a “doneness”.

“O-Oh sorry, luv.” She had been enthralled in her wears and well, her face. Her face was amazing and beautiful and once she was caught in her eyes she felt like a real spider had taken her into a web.

“How are you this morning?” She asked casually, flipping a page in the small book she seemed to be casually reading and not-reading simultaneously.  
  
“Angry.” She answered truthfully, hugging herself with a pout deeply ingrained on her face.

“About what?” Did Amélie just sound interested in why she was angry? Seeing improvement in the woman she adored was exciting, it almost made her forget about why she was angry.

“Well… Akande forbid me from considering the Morrison case and I— “She sighed, stopping her own sentence to give herself a moment to calm down.

“Ah, and you had dreams about this moment as well as answers for him so you feel like you should be on the mission alongside his team and figure out this mystery with him.” Amélie casually said, flipping another page.

“Yeah, wait, how’d you know?” She was taken aback, blinking intensely at her.

“He told me his concerns about you trying to force your way onto this mission by getting me to convince him to allow you to come on. You weren’t very subtle with your anger, Lena. He could hear you. _I_ could hear you.” She snorted, clicking her tongue at Lena.

“I was pretty loud, wasn’t I…”? She looked down at her black crocs, ashamed at herself for blowing her cover that easily.

“Don’t beat yourself up.” She coolly said, closing the book with a satisfying bang and then moving closer to the smaller brit. Amélie moved up to her silently, her lips lightly hitting the surface of her ear. “Remember, you can always indirectly assist with this.” She chuckled into her ear, leaving her soon after.

A shiver ran up Lena’s back as she was struck into speechlessness. She froze, her mind tripping over itself in attempts to get over the fact of how close Amélie was to her face. “I-Indirectly?”

“Indeed.” She smiled, “I leave that open to your interpretation.”

The spider walked away casually, the heels of her boots hitting the tiled floor softly.

“Indirectly.” She repeated into the quiet hall, zoning out as far as she could to try and figure this out. “Oh.” She said at first, face blank, “ _Oh.”_ She said again, a smile building up on her lips. “ _I GET IT_!” She shouted, covering her mouth, cheeks turning red.

“I heard that.” Amélie scolded from further down the hall.

“Aww...” Lena deflated like a forgotten party balloon, but then perked back up at the thought of what she’d do.

Carefully she slipped her way back into the barracks with a large duffle bag, then into the armory. She heard someone speaking in the other room behind an ajar door. A briefing was being held.

“Our mission objective is to secure Jack Morrison as well as his alleged savior. Team A will remain at Gibraltar and we will work on moving the base to being our property. Team A will also keep watch for any suspicious movements outside of our own. Team B will perform recon throughout the night in one of our chosen old Overwatch outposts. Team C and D will be in position in Morrison’s well-known spots. Our elite force will be positioned in Egypt, taking care to check all nooks and crannies in all known areas and positions. The final team will be positioned in West Annecy, to ensure our suspicions are not true.”

As Lena listened, she casually went shopping for grunt gear. Chest plates, shoulder pads, helmets, guns, boots, you name it and she grabbed it.

“We will send each team out tonight and stagger our searches so we do not alert the enemy as easily.”  
  
Lena hastened, knowing the briefing was almost over. She slid the zipper shut, hearing as the presumed commander dismissed his soldiers. She slipped out of the armory, then the barracks and into the halls, running quickly back to her room. She’d have to slip into the final briefing before they left to fit in and come in from a plausible location. Her brain finally caught up to itself, remembering the fact they told the soldiers to deploy in France.

_Gérard?_

She tensed at the thought, remembering the news, the fear, everything that followed it. She shivered, unzipping the bag in the privacy of her room. _Wait._ How would she board a bird without them knowing she was the odd number out? This had gotten more complicated than she had thought.

Lena pursed her lips, sitting on the bed next to her bag of things. For one she had stolen someone’s weapons and armor, two they were probably trying to find it and three, well three, she had to find out a way to convince the superior officers to let a mute soldier board their bird.

She lay back, groaning into the air around her. “C’mon Lena, think.”

“ _Indirectly assist with this_.”

“ _Indirectly_.”

This was her window of opportunity, and the stakes were high now that she had stolen someone’s gear. She had to commit to this, even if it meant being in trouble, or trouble far beyond her imagination. She would do this for herself and for Amélie and Widowmaker.

\--  
_That Night_

A short statured Talon soldier stood in line with a grouping of various sizes and shapes. They held their gun to their chest, shakily and yet steadfast.

“Go.”  
  
They heard the order, their body tensing, the world growing cold and scary. They flinched but followed the order.

Within moments the grouping was on a dropship.

And Lena Oxton, was one of them.

“Remember your orders and patrol the streets. West Annecy is a small place, _don’t underestimate it_.”

 

 

 


	2. Defiance

The small soldier jerked forward as the plane landed, realizing she had fallen asleep.

_Lena what on Earth were you thinking?_

She watched as a woman with purple skin arose from a seat, walking gracefully to the back and to the door.

_Wasn’t she supposed to be with the rest of her team?_

The woman looked back, her golden eye meeting the light, her pupils piercing into Tracer like a Hawk’s talons. Tracer visibly shrunk back, avoiding her at all costs until the woman left the plane and walked a distance unknown.

One by one the rows released, stomping onto the streets, darkness clinging to their forms, making it appear as if shadows formed and walked through the night. Lena followed behind a squadron of them, carefully choosing her steps. That was until, she was pulled aside by someone. She tensed, standing at attention immediately.

“I want this one.” She hissed at Lena’s superior officer. “9 will travel with me, I only need one.”

“Yes ma’am.” He chose his words carefully, bowing his head.

She was dragged into an alleyway by the shoulder and then she was tossed against a wall.

“Lena, I didn’t mean like this.” Came a hiss as Tracer’s helmet was worked off.

Her face hit the open air, her cheeks red, eyes widening. “What else was I supposed to do?” Her voice was choked, her lips moving upward into a natural pout.

“We don’t have time.” She roughly pushed the helmet into Tracer’s arms. “We’re searching where they won’t.”  She walked off in a fast fashion, expecting her to follow.

Tracer placed the helmet back on, then, proceeded to charge after. Good thing fast was her style. This part of town was small. Millions of details hit her eyes at once, throwing her into a confused state of being. Widow was an unstoppable force, quickly hooking a building in front of her.  
  
“Make it to the boat.” Widow hissed the order, filling her ear with her voice.

“Understood.” She responded, feeling chills from how close her voice was to her.

Tracer darted forward, trying her hardest to look like a quicker than usual soldier, but goodness that was hard. Occasionally she would dart forward in a blink of an eye and then resume running like a normal human being.

She jumped into the boat without a question, the spider standing there impatiently waiting for her. The engine was started and they took off towards an island in the middle of the water. The roar of the older engine was enough to make anyone go deaf or lose track of time. Disassociation clung to her frame, creating an effect that was enough to throw anyone off.

With a singular abrupt motion, the boat stopped. Lena went forward, nearly hitting her face into her knees. Her back hurt now, her neck stung, and all she wanted to do was find this person and bring them to the light. Whoever brought Jack back to full health needed some justice in their life.

Widowmaker hopped over the side, running up the steps to what appeared to be a chateau. Tracer followed, skirting the wall, holding the bulky blaster up in front of her as if she meant business. In all reality, she wasn’t ready to use it at all.

They came to a basement level and a cellar full of wine. She had never seen so much wine in her life. Widow opened the metal gate that separated the two rooms, nearly sliding on the broken glass on the floor.

“Of course.” Widow muttered, moving her hand behind a cask, patting around desperately until a set of bricks on the wall opened inward. A room lie on the other side.  
  
The most confusing part of this peculiar hidden room, was that of the light coming out from the doorway. Inside this room was a tall figure, leaning over a table. The figure was startled but in a way, that didn’t cause anything to clatter to the floor from their hands. They turned around, blinking at the two who had entered the room.

Tracer’s heart sunk, this wasn’t who she had seen in her dream, or at least, she suspected it wasn’t.

“Where is he?” Widowmaker growled, looking around the room rapidly, even going as far as rifling through cabinets filled with files.

“I don’t know what you mean, Ms. _Guillard_.” They tilted their head to the side, setting the implements they were using down.

“I know what you did.” She slammed the cabinets shut, Tracer’s ears aching.  
  
“I did what I felt was right for you.” They walked back calmly, leaning against the wall. “Bringing him back would give you closure. You _know_ that.”

“Only a month ago I found out he never left the bedroom, that we buried an empty casket.” Her words grew venomous, yellow eyes turning into cold fire. “He’s now roaming the Earth, confused as the day he died and came back.”

“I told him he could choose to leave. It was only ethical.” They sighed, looking down at their obscenely large nails. “Besides, I didn’t think _this_ would happen.”

“He brought Jack Morrison to who knows where, and he’s most likely confiding in him again.” She pulled the trigger on her gun in rage, the bullet hitting the wall in such a way it didn’t ricochet. It stopped in the wall in an odd manner, the force holding it down. “Moira, why did you let him go?”

“I told you.” She hissed, glaring down her nose. “He told me he wanted to find you.”

Widowmaker went silent, looking to her feet in an indistinguishable way.

“He never threw the ‘r’ word around. So at least you’re safe from harm, hopefully.” A small laugh came to light from her lips.

“This is _not_ a laughing matter.” She pinched the bridge of her nose with a free hand.

“I’m surprised you figured this out so quickly. I always knew you were clever. Now, who is this little _lackey_ with you?” Moira walked towards Tracer, squinting.

“It doesn’t matter.” A hurt tone came from her lips, the smaller soldier feeling the pain hit her heart.

_Oh, Amélie._

A gasp came from the taller figure. “My, my it’s like one of those surprises on Easter. You open the egg and out pops…” She placed her hands to her helmet, taking it from her head. “Oh, well, that’s not what I was expecting.” Moira grabbed Tracer’s cheek, pinching it and pulling at it. “Ex-Overwatch agent, Tracer, The poster girl, The pride and joy, The manipulated. _Poor thing_.”

Tracer flared her nostrils at her, glaring angrily at her.

Moira let go of her cheek, clicking her tongue. “Ah, I understand.”

“Do you know where he is?” Widow asked, the ache in her tone previously had gone.

“Do I look like a person who puts a tracker in my patients?” She sounded absolutely done with her, offended even.

A disgusted look came from Widowmaker.

“Fine, fine. Yes, I did. Let me check.” She walked over to a computer, quickly typing in a few passwords, followed by a ton of rummaging around. “There’s no guarantee he hasn’t cut it out of himself.”

Tracer cringed at the thought of a knife being taken to a tracker. _No way._

A red dot appeared on the monitor, the tracking beacon moving in a circle.

“He stuck it to a _wind turbine_.” Moira let out a sigh, facepalming softly. “Of course.”  
  
“Too slow to be a wind turbine.” Tracer walked up to them, blinking. “Looks like it’s moving more like one of those old advertisement boards that spin.”

“Where is this sign?” Widow cut in, moving closer.

“Hollywood.” Moira stood back, rubbing at her chin. “Hm, Strange.”

“Can’t you input that target into a satellite array and view where his tracker ended up?” Lena questioned, wondering what the sign was advertising for or if she was correct at all.

“Right.” A few minor screen changes later, a satellite image appeared. “I don’t know how long I can hold this connection without the government scrambling it.” She zoomed in on the exact location, an abandoned car wash with a still rotating sign lay in their sights. Yellow tape surrounded the entire area, reading “Historical Property” in many different languages.  The sign had been spray painted to heck, the one notable feature, a blackbird, a red light visibly flashing where the eye was.

“Blackbird.” Lena murmured, raising a brow. “ _That’s me_.”

She remembered back to the note she had sent herself, the one that was still very cryptic to even her.

Two doves,  
asunder,  
with light they fade,  
and in the dark,  
they are just blackbirds.  
when the rainbow hits the void,  
Time is lost,  
their meaning unknown,  
sunlight behind the dark curtain.  
Signed, Blackbird.  
  
She knew it had meant that things weren’t as they seemed, but did it mean more? Two doves, representing two souls, asunder being in flames, love perhaps? Or pain? In the light, they were extraordinary. She thought to Amélie’s career as a ballet dancer and how she was in the light constantly and how Gérard was a member of the core team of Overwatch. Without the light they faded into time, being forgotten. Sunlight possibly relating to a stage light behind theatre curtains. Thoughts whizzed through her mind, a small headache forming.

“ _You’re_ Blackbird?” Moira asked in a quiet voice. “That can’t be possible.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lena asked, cocking her head to the side.

Silence filled the room, Lena’s heart pounded, she knew she wouldn’t get an answer. Not even if she pried.

“I know where he is.” Widow’s voice broke the silence, her face growing determined. “The one place I didn’t think he’d return to.”

“If I’m thinking what you’re thinking, then why is his tracker in Hollywood?” She asked, tapping her chin with a nail.

“A messenger put that there. He’s too clever to have actually gone to Hollywood.” She walked from the room quickly, not stopping once. Tracer followed her, the voice of Moira echoed behind them. It was too echoed to catch. Nor did Tracer really care.

Within a few moments they had returned to the mainland, ready to face the night full on. She cut communication, beckoning Tracer to come with her. “We’re going to the countryside. I hope you don’t mind.”

Widow turned off her communication lines, Tracer followed, the two ran into the city.

The spider ran to a randomly parked car, jiggling the handle.

“Oh luv, you can’t be serious.” Lena sighed, shaking her head.

The door didn’t open, so she did the next best thing. She took the butt of her rifle, slamming it into the window. The glass shattered everywhere and yet not a single alarm went off.  
  
“Pff, please.” She laughed out quietly. She reached in, unlocking it. She swept the glass off with her armored hand, sitting in the driver’s seat. She then proceeded to unlock the other door, setting her gun behind, in the seats.

“Well, even if I don’t agree with that _method_ … Road trip!” She said in a stage whisper.

She grabbed a device from her pocket, it turned green after a few seconds. The car started with a press of the button, the device acting as a fob. Without any allowance of letting Lena secure herself in the passenger seat, she hit her foot down to the floor of the car, the floating hovering vehicle lurching forward. Lena flew back, hitting her head rather hard, at least not enough to knock her out. She clipped the seatbelt in as quickly as her shaking hands could manage it, the scenery screaming by the windows.

_Widowmaker was on a mission._

Hills, rubble filled roads, abandoned towns, you name it, passed by the windows of their shared death trap. It was only when they hit forest that Widow slowed down.

“What’s was all that, then?” Lena’s voice was hoarse from the wind that had been launched through the right broken driver side window.

“I’m going off the books. Fast is key. You’ll understand soon enough. Now, no more questions. I need time to think.” Widow grumbled, taking the curves quickly.

The forest zipped by at a stupidly fast speed, still, her stomach starting to hate this ride. She attempted to close her eyes to balance the movement and speed that whizzed past her eyes. She felt dizzy when she did this, finding that keeping her eyes open was much better. Thoughts ripped through her head as she forced herself to think into the things she saw when she had her chronal disassociation.  

Pain enveloped the back of her head, a frown taking her face as she had to pull herself back into reality. There was no point in remembering now, not when Widow was driving like a controlled lunatic.

 Eventually the forest faded into sparseness and then into rolling hills. Elevation continued to change, Lena’s ears popping with each turn it seemed. Nothing was in sight except abandoned or small farms and villas.

The car came to a slow halt, they had parked near an old house, all by itself in the middle of grassy hills and plains. Yellow tape hung from the handle of the door, marking it an old crime scene. The world came to a halt when she saw this, her stomach feeling even sicker imagining what this place was and what stories it would tell within.

Widow got out of the car hesitantly, grabbing Widow’s kiss, Tracer followed. Her stomach would surely give up soon, she braced herself, and nothing. She hefted a sigh, walking to the door with her.

She held her rifle to her chest. Her foot softly tapped the door, the door creaked open.

A tall man stood behind the door, his head tilted downward. The first words that entered the air took Lena’s breath away.  
  
“ _Ah_ ,  _You found me first, my butterfly.”_


	3. Broken Lightbulb

“I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

An older man with a gun came behind the tall spider, striking her in the head with the blunt end of his gun. Lena stepped back, looking at the two of them with widened eyes. The sniper fell to the Earth, blood softly coming from a new wound to her head.

“Why did you—“She was cut off, the two looking at her with a grim expressionless stare.

“I’m sorry, _Blackbird.”_ Gérard’s lips curled into a harmless smile, his bright eyes ill matching to his new-found emotion.

“She’s not who she _was_.” Her voice was full of anger, her hues igniting into flames. “You have no right.” She bent down, putting her hand to her head for a moment, blood seeping into her gloved fingertips. Her heart ached, badly, her lips wiggling. “I love her you know.”

“Oh, Oxton. You love a liar.”  The older man scoffed, moving closer.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore, Morrison. Are you dead? Are you alive? Did he get killed in his sleep? Did Talon really do all that bad?” At this point she turned her coms on, relaying it straight to her superior.

Jack noticed this motion, grabbing her by the neck. “I don’t care what happened, but I know you took me off that roof.”

“Y-You aren’t good.” She struggled to say, her face turning color. “You. Aren’t. Good.”

Gérard was taken aback by this, still obviously unsure of what to make of all of this. Something wasn’t right with his head, either that or it was full of fantasies from a world that had died a long while ago.

Morrison let her go, she hugged herself, feeling the air returning to her body.

“Overwatch is good. Talon is bad. Just like you learned in orientation.” Jack chimed in after a heaping pile of silence.

“Not when… not when the person teaching you that is corrupt. Not when the… person teaching you damned her to this horrid fate!” Her voice arose, tone growing fiery, desperate even. She let his voice get under her skin, into her ears, into her brain. She felt herself losing her calm, her usual attitude melting into nothingness.

“I’ll clip your wings.” He said, grinning slyly.                     

Gérard’s confusion became evident as soon as those words had been entered his mind. They sunk in, visibly gnawing at him, sending him into a corner of his own making.

“That’s right, your wife? _He_ did that to her.” She ran her fingers over the developing bruise on her neck.

“How delusional can you get?!” Morrison growled, a laugh forming quickly after to signify his willingness to mock her into the ground, no matter how thick the lies could get.

“Why would Overwatch’s poster girl up and leave? Why would Overwatch’s poster girl be in Talon with the other members of Overwatch? Like... Like Angela, and and Fareeha, and Jesse!” She looked up to Gérard with hurt eyes, watching as he put a hand to his head.

“They brainwashed her, she’s too— “Morrison was cut off by a frantic Gérard.

“Stop, stop, stop.” He put his hands up, closing his eyes. “Lena, is that why…” He grabbed a metallic medallion from his pocket. The Overwatch symbol gleamed back, an etching of a blackbird in the center shone. “Is this why Ana had this?”

“She doesn’t know what that means.” Morrison put a hand to his own face, setting his pulse rifle to his side.

“Who is Blackbird?” Lena spoke up, finally, looking up at the two of them with wild eyes.

“You really don’t know?” Gérard asked, his face growing concerned. “You. You are Blackbird.”

“Yeah I’ve got that much.” She almost laughed, trying to get over the sad hilarity of Widowmaker laying beneath them, out cold while two potential enemies had a rather normal argument with her.

“Two doves, asunder. With light they fade, and in the dark? They are just blackbirds.” Morrison calmly said, staring blankly forward.

“How did you…” She felt her heart begin to race, her ears starting to lose hearing, she could only pick up on a deafening ringing of her brain’s own making.

Morrison’s lips moved, but she couldn’t register his words. It was as if she was watching someone’s memories back. Someone else’s memories. But she was right there, right then, in that time. Her hearing came back as the last words from this strange far off work of writing echoed into her head, awakening something.

“Signed, Blackbird.” He said, the words hitting her like a mantra, as if he had sealed her fate, as if he controlled the very world she existed in.

“How…” Her words were foreign, even to herself.

Gérard shook his head, gripping the coin in his hand like it meant the entire world to him. “Lena Oxton, you are Blackbird and you are here for a purpose greater than you know. That is as simple as it gets.”

_Simple. She felt like laughing in his face. How was that simple?_

Lena stood back up, taller than before, feeling a burning in her heart, an urge to scream and the smallest urge to beat the hell out of the two people who stood in front of her. Oh, how she’d love to see Morrison’s smile wiped from his face, and that confused glint in Gérard’s eyes to turn to anger. A groan beneath them made her stop dead in her tracks.

_Widowmaker._

“L-Lena… don’t…” A small voice came from beneath them, “We can’t allow them to--”

“Allow them to what?” Came the voice of an Irishwoman.

“Moira.” Morrison’s even-toned voice caught. “Why are _you_ here?”

“I heard everything, dear. Stop patronizing this young lady for who she is.” The scientist glared. “And _you_ , don’t hurt your wife like that.”

Only one of them acted, and that was Morrison. His heavy-pulse rifle being used to shoot at Moira’s feet as she backed up, running the opposite way.

“I didn’t want it to come to this.” She thrust her hand forward, a black bulky orb coming out of it at the older soldier.

He ran from it, the orb following him, a lightning chain coming from the ball to him, his state of wellness decreasing into nothingness at a slow rate.

Lena helped up Widow, gradually but quickly as they could manage, getting her into the house away from the pulse fire.

She sat down next to her, ducking her head, instinctually holding her hand to comfort herself, no, both of them. She felt her finger run along the top of her hand.  
  
Gérard joined them, letting the two of them fight it out on the lawn as if two old friends were fighting rather than two enemies. He shook, his hands unable to stay steady. He was afraid of this going wrong. “Why do you fight for Talon?”

“Because they haven’t lied to me once.” She answered simply, almost mesmerized by the finger running over the top of her hand.

“They are full of lies.” He replied, his eyes shining in higher levels of confusion. “I studied them for years.”  
  
“Gérard.” Widow started, looking at her feet. “Morrison was the one who did this. Morrison was the one that implanted a word into my head, making me the best sleeper agent to end the only one who believed in the right things for the right reasons.”

Gérard looked over to her, his heart aching at the sight of her appearance, the sight of her in general. It had been too long. He was stuck in her eyes for a few moments until a rocket hit the outer wall. It shook him from his trance, getting up and ushering them deeper into the household. He unlocked what appeared to be a closet door, however, it ducked down into a basement level unseen from the outside. It was a cellar, a simple cellar, with a few bottles of old wine decorating the walls. He and Lena sat Widow down on a step.

It felt like they were escaping an omnic raid deep in the basement while the omnics invaded topside. It gave Lena a weird feeling, the atmosphere matching that.

“Morrison did _that_?” His facial expressions tore in half, his heart visibly breaking. “Why would he frame Talon?”  
  
“To get you off his trail, to lure you into his web.” Widow whispered calmly, her tone almost matching that of the late Amélie Lacroix. “I lost control of my body that night. When I woke up I was in Talon’s care, Moira watching over me. Studying me, undoing what Overwatch had done.”

“Jack told me that Moira had….” He cut himself off, hearing another loud bang. “Why did.” He stopped again, looking to his hands. “He wanted to use me again. He wanted to use me after I willingly followed his recognizable signal from Gibraltar. He knew I’d go looking, He knew I’d…”

“He should be dead.” Widow said darkly, her yellow eyes turning to stone.

“Amélie I…” He felt his words get stuck, his body shivering. “Amélie I’m so sorry.”

“She’s dead.” She whispered heavily, obviously those words striking a cord deep within her. “Widowmaker is the only one that remains. Morrison cut her out of me.”

“Then….” He paused again, for a long while, his voice shaking, his eyes visibly tearing up. “I’m so sorry, Widowmaker.”

“She loved you… _We_ loved you.” She emphasized, watching as he began to cry. “Survive this time and maybe I’ll consider accepting it.”  
  
Lena knew deep in her heart that Widow lied. Widow lied to protect herself from the feelings that had been being torn up inside of her like loose sheets of paper. She had just set fire to them one more time, trying to burn the remains of a ballet dancer who loved what she did.

The door at the top of the stairs was kicked open. All in the room below flinched. The woman stood above, smiling wickedly.

“He ran away, but it was worth it, because he left a trail. Shall we go hunting?” She moved a hand out, a stream of gold hitting the sniper. The sniper stirred, rubbing the back of her head. The blood had dried. “Temporary, yes, but I have to take care of you, little Spider. I promised I would.”

Lena stood up, nodding at the scientist with a twisted gleam in her eye. “Did he really run away?” She questioned, blinking away some stray tears she felt coming. One moment she felt anger, then sadness and then confusion. Her knees nearly gave way, her body falling forward, her hands outstretched to catch herself on the concrete stair.

“Indeed, dear Oxton.” She put up a finger, grinning madly at the thought of running after a bleeding man. _Oh what fun!_

They quickly sped up the stairs, entering the main room again. A weakened Morrison stood in the door way.

“You aren’t any fun.” She pouted, folding her arms.

“You’re like a mosquito.” He threw a biotic field down, standing up a bit straighter.

“You’re a cockroach.” She countered, walking closer to him.

Gérard stopped her, walking towards him instead.

“Oh good. You didn’t let them get to you, Lacroix.” He smirked.

Gérard’s fist slammed into his jawline, the soldier jolting backward in an unearthly manner. “That was for Amélie.” He paused, watching as Jack came back up.

“Was that nece—“He was cut off again, another punch going into his cheek this time, sending him backward more so.

“And _that_ was for the comrades you lied to.”

Lena stepped up to plate, knocking the gun in his hands to his feet, kicking him where the sun didn’t shine as hard as she could, then punched him in the gut. “For **_Amélie_**.”

Jack Morrison fell to the Earth backward, holding onto himself for dear life as if that would cushion the fall. His head bounced off the concrete pad behind him. He seemed to have a habit of falling.

Widowmaker was stunned behind them, a feeling she hadn’t felt in a while creeping up on her.

_Gratitude._

_Sheer, unadulterated, Gratitude._

Moira shook her head. “Well, isn’t that a sight to see.”

None of the others spoke, either too stunned or content to see him on the ground like that. Everything had happened so fast.

“We still need him.” Gérard broke the silence. “He’s not a good man, I know that now. But we need him. We need him to tell us _everything_.” His eyes pierced into Lena’s being immediately, a chill overcoming her.

“You understand that, right, **_Blackbird_**?”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapters are on the way.


End file.
